A Fairy Tail Fairytale
by okmeamithinknow
Summary: A series of interconnected shorts in a fairytale AU
1. The Wolf

He trembles, with cold or fatigue he isn't sure. He doesn't know how long he's been out here. The vast wilderness surrounding him is an endless maze of trees and snow, rocks and ice. He's half starved, and icicles cling to his fur from when he collapsed in the river bed, unable to take another step. The shock of it galvanizing him to continue on in his aimless wandering. They're impenetrable columns of steel fused to his fur that not even his body heat has a chance of melting.

It's silent save for his labored panting and the crunch of his paws as they break through the top layer of ice atop the snow. The wind howls and his heart sings it's harmony.

How long has it been since he's last eaten or seen any sign of life in this frozen forest.

It wasn't always like this.

He wasn't always like this.

But the memories of before—

Of warmth.

Of what he really is.

Who he is and where he belongs.

Of her.

— grow more distant with each step.

It's her that he clings to.

The hazy memory of blue, much deeper than the patches of sky that broke through the trees and clouds before the sunset and ushered in a cold that's seeped into his bones,

A laugh, soft like the chiming of bells in the distance,

And some musty scent of trees or paper, he thinks.

The overwhelming sense of home that aches in his heart and forces him to put one paw in front of the other. Just when he's ready to give up, to give into exhaustion's siren song that promises death if he just lay down, to slip into the shadows, there's a shifting in the air. An infinitesimal modulation in the temperature. The scent of smoke and heather and heat and animal on the breeze.

He turns on instinct alone. Inky night spilling over him, concealing him as he plods on. It's not far before he comes across a clearing, and at it's center a house, barely more than a hut, but the windows are filled with light and it looks altogether too familiar to ignore.

It's barely a thought, to approach the dwelling before he's at the threshold, and his legs finally give out on him, collapsing with a thud against aged wood. Here is as good a place to die as any, he thinks, with a modicum of warmth.

Old iron hinges creak as the door open. It's followed by a soft feminine gasp, and a gust of heat with it.

 _"_ _Gajeel"_


	2. The Lost Children

The Lost Children: This prompt screamed Oracion Seis to me.

* * *

He scatters the crumbs behind him. Bits of crusty bread left in his wake, as though he can't read the signs can the tracks they—his siblings and him— have worn, the path that leads to the hollowed out tree that's sheltered them for so many nights. He's lost track of how many times the moon has cycled through the sky since they left.

Escaped.

Fled into the night when the moon was dark and the sky empty.

To the forest their father warned them about.

Fled from _him._

He pauses near the old oak tree, stopping to see, to listen for footsteps following him in the snow. And in the silence that follows he doubts himself.

Whether the bit of crust is worth the risk. They barely manage to scrape by as it is. The gnawing persistent hunger that lingers even in the fat months, the summer months, the months of berries and game and plenty. Where the winter, with its snow as white as his sister's hair, means they're forced to scrounge through the neighboring town for scraps of clothes and food, stealing when begging doesn't prove fruitful.

The more than futile hope that someone, anyone, will see them, will find them, will bring them someplace where they'd be warm and safe and loved and far from the tower they're still locked in.

 _He_ is gone, he knows he is. Stolen back in the dead of night while the others slept. Saw his final breath with his own two hands.

But even that isn't enough to assuage their nightmares. In the black of night when his sister screams wake them all and they huddle together under meager blankets. The tangle of bodies a reminder that they're alive. They made it out with their scars and threadbare clothes.

He heaves a sigh, pushing himself off the tree and forward towards the home they've made for themselves. His youngest brother races over, eager to see what today's insufficient harvest has produced. He gives him a half hearted grin, pulling the loaf of bread from behind his back.

And the crumbs that fall to the ground leave a trail, a promise that maybe, someday, everything will be alright.


	3. The Ogre

A.N. This was meant to be day three, but life got in the way. So it's a little longer than the last one.

* * *

She weaves flowers into his hair, garish sprigs of color hidden amongst the raven blackness. Crowning him with wildflowers, he thinks with a grimace, with dying things. It's sloppy; her chubby fingers lacking the dexterity to twist the stems tight enough to last. The first of the spray already scattered across the grass around them.

He is the worst kind of monster. The kind that lurks not in shadows, but in light. Lingers in promises made between lovers.

In the quiet awe of a sleeping babe, the kind that slumbers with no knowledge of evil. The innocence yet to be tainted.

To see the harsh truth of life. The inevitability of it's end.

Yet to know loss.

To watch loved ones wither away. To be eaten alive by their demons and to be helpless to do anything to change it.

"So this is where I find you two," calls a voice from the edge of their clearing. It's bright, and holds a whisper of a laugh.

He turns, giving her a half hearted smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Blue hair flowing down her back, a waterfall unbound from its usual plait, she floats across the grass towards them. The train of her dress trails behind her. He rises to his feet, placing the girl down next to him so that he can bow low. She laughs, low and dips in a curtsy to match as the girl darts behind him.

"The princess wanted flowers," he says, nodding to the toddler who's peering at her from her hiding spot.

"And you thought to indulge her," she says with a hum, cupping his cheek with the palm of her hand. She brushes a kiss across his temple. "Like a good father should."

He blushes at the praise. Juvia leans down to greet the girl, who's still clinging to his pant leg. She gazes down at her, blue eyes mirroring the girl in front of her. The girl launches herself at her mother. She scoops her up into her arms, laughing at her uncharacteristic shyness. Gray takes Juvia's free hand and helps her sit, arranging her skits to sit comfortably. Grass stains be damned. The girl skips away, mind set on fetching more flowers for her mother.

"I figured it was passed time to meet her grandparents too," he says, the whisper soft confession flowing out of him without permission. He nods to the trio of graves in front of him. Juvia sighs, barely an exhalation of breath, and leans against his shoulder in quiet succor. The date hadn't escaped her notice, nor was she entirely surprised to find him here.

He is the worst kind of monster. That he lives while their corpses rot beneath fields of wildflowers. He is a monster, and he will continue to be a monster if only to protect the two with him now. The ones he loves most.


End file.
